I've got your back
by thisisnotmybeautifulhouse
Summary: The moment Stiles commits to being a part of this crazy world he unknowingly led his best friend into. Deals with early season one.


One minute, everything is fine, and the next, Han Solo is being ripped out of his arms and tossed from one set of hands to the next. The instigator stands toe to toe with him, blocking his view of his best friend. "Hey! Give me back my bear!" It occurs to him as he tries to dodge the big blonde boy mercilessly refusing to budge that bringing his constant childhood companion along for his first day of kindergarten was a somewhat less than stellar idea, but it had been scary enough considering the idea of starting big kid school with kids already guaranteed to be taller and older, without contemplating leaving Han Solo at home. Worse than that, everyone else already has friends, because in a town this size, there's only one truly respected pre-school, and these kids have known each other for two years now, at the least. He wonders for what must be the hundredth time today why Ms. Bates had to recommend him for early admission.

The blonde boy - Jackson, he thinks is his name - sneers in obvious contempt. "Aw, are you gonna cry about it? Can't make it through class without your baby toy? Go home, Baby. Kids who bring teddy bears to class don't belong here."

As if the situation hadn't been bad enough already, Jackson's taunts prompt mortifying moistness in Stiles' eyes, and he sniffs desperately, struggling to keep the dreaded tears at bay. He can tell he's fighting a losing battle, but then something happens that shocks his tear ducts into submission. "Give the bear back, Jackson!" A boy with dark curls and tanned skin scowls as fiercely as a five-year-old can, pushing at Jackson's shoulder.

"Or what, Scott? You'll get your daddy to come beat me up? I heard he left. I heard _he doesn't care_. I heard -" No one ever finds out exactly what else Jackson heard, because Scott punches the taller boy, landing a hit to his arrogant mouth, finally drawing the attention of their erstwhile instructor, an ancient and white-haired woman by the name of Mrs. Nibbs.

"_What_ is going on here? Scott, I understand you're having a hard time right now, but that is no excuse to go around hitting your classmates. It's the principal's office for you, young man."

"But Mrs. Nibbs!" Stiles doesn't know where the courage comes from. Perhaps it is the fact that someone _cared_, or perhaps it is his father's sense of justice, passed down to his son, but he cannot allow Scott to be punished for defending him from a bully like Jackson.

Mrs. Nibbs turned to Stiles, her agitated face softening. The Stilinski child was certainly a bright little thing, and he reminded her of another child who had stared up at her with those light brown eyes more than twenty years ago. His mother had been unusually bright as well, and had always been a good student. "What is it, dear?"

Taking in a huge breath, Stiles resolutely avoided looking at his tormentor, focusing instead on the stooped Mrs. Nibbs. "Ma'am," he says, because his mother has always told him that manners can go a long way, especially with his elders, "Scott only hit Jackson 'cause Jackson stole my teddy bear. Please - please don't send him to the princ'pal."

Lips tightening, Mrs. Nibbs turns to face Jackson, watching as he quails. She'd had such high hopes for him, as both his parents had been eager and well-behaved. "Is this true, Jackson?"

He stares down at his sneakers and nods. "Yes, Mrs. Nibbs."

Mrs. Nibbs lifts her head, casting about for the misappropriated bear. "Terry, return the bear to Stiles at once. I expect all of you to apologize to Stiles. In this class, we are all friends, and teasing and stealing is not something we do to our friends. Do you understand?" A chorus of sheepish "Yes, Mrs. Nibbs," meets her aging ears, and she nods before turning back to face a defeated Scott and a terrified Jackson. "I will not accept violence or bullying, boys. For the rest of the week, the two of you will spend the entirety of recess sitting beside me. Recess is a privilege, not a right, and you will have to earn it by behaving like the young gentlemen I know you can be."

As she begins herding the pair of miscreants, Stiles feels compelled to run forward, Han Solo once more clutched tightly to his chest. He reaches Scott and grabs his hand, saying "Thank you," and then, "I'm sorry you got in trouble. He shouldn't have said those mean things."

Wry and resigned, Scott replies, "Yeah, well. He's always been a big meanie. But don't worry - I've got your back."

"_I've got your back."_

The words reverberate in his head as he dodges his friend's latest attempt to maim or kill him. For the next eleven years, that statement of solidarity had held true - through Stiles' grief over his mother's death, through his crush on Lydia Martin, through the horribly awkward period in middle school where all the other boys were showing signs of maturing yet Stiles was physically still a year behind. Ever since that first day of elementary school, Scott had just _been there_ for Stiles, and even though his help was occasionally less than truly helpful - in fact, more of a hindrance - he had still been emotionally available, insofar as a boy his age could be. They'd become brothers in all the ways that mattered, and it is this fact that makes Scott's current actions so difficult to reconcile. Stiles can tell himself over and over again that his best friend doesn't mean it, that he's not really all there right now, and that at least, in the beginning, Scott tried to warn Stiles away, but it cannot entirely erase the fear and the pain that comes from watching the person who knows him better than Stiles knows himself itching to end his life.

Mentally shaking himself, he glances around, searching frantically for anything that might bring his friend back from the edge. _What happens when you get angry?_ Scott snarls at him, utterly feral. _You get hot. Your pulse races... Lower his pulse, Stiles. How can you..._ The fire extinguisher is in his hands before he even consciously registers the decision to grab it, and then he's dousing his friend and seeing him go from ravening beast to exhausted and bewildered teen in a matter of moments.

Stiles is almost grateful that Scott has no idea what just transpired, but he still tells him that he tried to kill him, needing him to understand the gravity of their situation. He's not entirely sure that his friend understands much of _anything_ right now, though, and though he does a fairly decent job of not showing it, Stiles is completely freaked out. One thing manages to rise up through the haze of confused and jumbled and generally panicked emotions, one thought.

A five-year-old Scott had stepped between Stiles and a group of rowdy older boys before they even knew each other's _names_. If it hadn't have been for Stiles' irrational need for Han Solo, Scott never would have spent the first week of kindergarten stuck beside Mrs. Nibbs during recess, and if it hadn't been for Stiles' insatiable curiosity, Scott never would have been bitten by that werewolf. So even though risking his life isn't exactly at the top of his list of fun things to do, he's going to do it as many times and as many ways as become necessary, because he _owes_ Scott, and as awkward as it might be for either of them to come out and say it, he loves him, too.

He breathes in deeply and stares at his best friend, more serious than he has ever been in his life, and he begins to plan, all the while thinking, _This time, I've got_ your _back_.

And he always will.

**Notes: This happened because I was thinking about exactly how much Stiles puts up with from Scott on a daily basis, and wondering how on earth someone could just _do that_ unless they were family or they were bound together by something pretty solid. Also, Stiles seems like the kind of person who would feel responsible for Scott getting The Bite, and I think that would probably have a pretty strong impact on the dynamics of their relationship, whether the two of them ever openly acknowledge it or not.**


End file.
